Just Tomorrow
by She's a Star
Summary: An impromptu waltz in a rainstorm of leaves; fairytale moments that are almost foreign now. (The story of a photograph. LJ. RS.)


**Just Tomorrow**

_By She's a Star_

**Disclaimer:** Harry Potter is J.K. Rowling's. The particular moment this fic refers to is courtesy of the PoA trailer, so I suppose it's Warner Bros.'s. Ick.

**Author's Note:** Well, I wrote this because . . . I wanted PepsiAngel to write. Somehow I was trying to get her to write by writing without even telling her that I was writing. I think there's a fly in my logic ointment.

I tried to make this a bit bittersweet. Unfortunately, it just seems kinda clunky.

And my apologies to Milla, whom I asked to write me a fic like this. I'm sorryyyy.

Also, on the subject of pairings – L/J, obviously, and I'm not sure anyone objects to that, but this is also R/S, as in Remus/Sirius, as in Moony/Padfoot, as in two guys who "embrace like brothers." Don't you love incest?

. . . Sorry. It's the Vanilla Coke talking.

Anyway. If you don't like R/S, press that there back button.

Unless you _really_ want to read this regardless.

And  just in case anyone's dying to know, Harry's at his grandmother's (James's mum) while this is going on. I didn't get a chance to touch on it in the fic, but I thought you'd all be dying to know. See, I _do_ think of these things. Really.

And this has been re-uploaded because I am a spacey idiot who somehow managed to not at all realize that Harry has, in fact, been around for awhile and therefore has had a Halloween before. Thank you to the reviewer who pointed that out. And I'm aware that Peter's being especially strange, but as I wrote it I had him like that because, yeah, his best friends were all going to die the next day, and so he was a bit more out of it than usual.

Yep.

Isn't it sad that this is the closest I'll be to updating a fanfic in quite sometime?

*

            It is the thirtieth of October, and it seems like some kind of escape. Lily knows that's foolish, because everything is falling apart. People she knows keep dying: simple, pointless deaths, nothing but a few whispered words and flashes of light. But now they stand outside, the five of them, and she can't stop smiling.

            Sirius is grinning too, that broad mischievous smile that's always accompanied by deviously sparkling eyes. He's got a camera in his hands, a gift from Remus that she's quite sure he's regretting right now.

            "Smile, Moony," he instructs – Remus rolls his eyes and turns away from the camera; there's an underlying fondness in his movements – and Sirius snaps a picture.

            "You do realize you're wasting film," points out Remus, a smile playing at the corners of his mouth.

            Sirius shrugs and grins. "You're not a waste."

            There's something beautiful in seeing them like this; she knows they haven't been talking much lately, now that suspicion is something one seems to breathe in along with air.

            Peter is watching them all: not smiling or laughing. Just watching. He's seemed so distant lately. Lily worries about him. Which sounds a bit silly; of course she worries, she worries about all of them. But she's always had a certain sympathy for Peter, and a fondness. He's quiet, and not in the sharpened, intelligent way that Remus has. His jokes aren't sharp like Sirius's; he lacks James's endearing charm. She's never truly understood why he is accepted among them, but it seems enough that he is.

            Still, she worries.

            "So, Lil," Sirius says, coming over and draping an arm around her shoulders. "Halloween tomorrow. Is ickle Harry going to eat all the sweets he can stomach?"

            "No!" Lily exclaims, at the same time that James, beaming broadly, replies, "'Course!"

            Lily glares at her husband. "Don't be an idiot, James. He's barely got teeth!"

            "But it's his first proper Halloween! It's time he put those teeth to use!"

            "I second that," Sirius says firmly.

            "You two are terrible," Lily announces, then turns to Remus. "You're on my side, aren't you? They're terrible!"

            "I feel inclined to agree, yes," Remus responds, smiling at her.

            "Traitor," mutters Sirius.

            "Oh, I'm the traitor?" Remus asks mildly. "I thought we all promised James when Harry was born that we'd always look out for his best interests."

            "Okay, fine," says Sirius. "I'll be the traitor."

            Lily watches their hands brush; Remus encircles Sirius's wrist with his fingers for a second.

            She can't help but think that maybe everything will be all right.

            "Peter," she says, deciding she could use more allies. "What do you think?"

            Peter continues staring blankly off into the distance.

            "Peter?" she asks again.

            "Hey, Wormtail," Sirius says. "The lady is asking you a question."

            Peter blinks. "Oh . . . right, I'm sorry."

            "It's okay," Lily says. "What do you think – should my poor son's teeth rot because of my husband's horrible influence?"

            "It doesn't matter," Peter says, his words barely perceptible as his gaze falls to the ground.

            She worries.

            "Oh, come on, Wormtail," Sirius says, making his way over to Peter. "Don't be a traitor like Moony here."

            "Like you," Remus corrects.

            "Like me," Sirius capitulates easily.

            Peter shrugs. "Do whatever makes you happy."

            James's hand finds hers.

            "Come on, Evans," he says, and winks at her.

            She feigns annoyance, but can't resist giggling a little. "You're never going to change, are you?"

            He shakes his head. "Nah, probably not. And you're stuck with me for life."

            "Lucky me," she deadpans, and stands on tiptoe to kiss his cheek.

            "Oh, come on," he says teasingly. "Is that all you've got?"

            "Prat," she accuses, and he leans down to kiss her.

            Over the past few years, she thinks, everything has gotten so dark. There's been loss, and terror, and injustice. Moments like these become so rare that sometimes they almost seem like fairytales, things she invents to keep herself from going mad. But it's real right now, and she savors it: James's hands on her waist and Remus and Sirius so perfectly, subtly in love with each other and Peter a constant comforting presence; the wind lightly teasing her hair as leaves fall around them, a rainstorm of red and gold.

            This moment envelops her, flawless, and she finds herself hoping. It's strange and almost foreign, now that things have gotten so dark that she can barely bring herself to do it anymore.

            A blinding flash overwhelms her senses, suddenly, and she almost imagines that the leaves and trees and grass have gone green, a sharp, clear green like Harry's eyes.

            She blinks and sees Sirius standing with the camera, chuckling to himself.

            "Here's one for the photo albums," he says sarcastically. "Twelve or so years from now, you can show Harry that even after three long years of marriage you never lost the desire to engage in a healthy bit of tongue wrestling."

            "Si_ri_us," Lily whines, narrowing her eyes at him.

            "Go on," Sirius encourages. "Let's strike a less Harry-scarring pose, shall we?"

            Lily sighs. "Well, I suppose we don't want him scarred."

            "Precisely," Sirius says. "Bad parenting, you know."

            Her gaze meets James's, and she absently attempts to smooth down his hair, then straightens his scarf. She supposes if they're to have a picture taken--

            _God,_ she thinks wryly, _I'm turning into my mother. Who knows what I'll be like in another few years?_

            She pulls away. "Sorry."

            James grins crookedly at her. "Dance with me?"

            She laughs. "Always."

            He takes her hand and begins leading her in an impromptu waltz – everything fades out of focus, nothing but a coloured blur, and all she sees is him.

            "Say 'Happy Halloween Tomorrow!'" Sirius instructs.

            "Why?" James asks, laughing. "Isn't it a bit of a mouthful?"

            "Fine," Sirius says impatiently. "Just 'tomorrow,' then."

            "Tomorrow," she and James sing out obediently.

            Just tomorrow.


End file.
